


Reach

by Rynfinity



Series: Out of the Mouths of Babes [7]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Human, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1374013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My father would- I don't even know what he would do."  Most days he can't even really think about it.</p><p>"Even Odin manages to be wrong on occasion," the therapist responds.</p><p>Thor laughs.  "Just don't ever let him hear you say that."</p><p> </p><p>This is a direct sequel to Spin and will make the most sense read after its predecessors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, look, I got more done tonight than I expected. :)
> 
> Thor tries taking his therapist's advice.

"Have you tried just asking him?"

Put that way it sounds stupidly obvious, not to mention stupidly simple. In reality, it's not. It’s neither. "He expects me to know," Thor says. Which is true. "And he gets all upset if I guess wrong. Ridiculously upset, sometimes."

"And do you feel like that's your fault?" The social worker watches his face closely.

Thor does, sometimes. He half-nods, half-shrugs. "If I did a better job of guessing, it wouldn't happen."

"Think about that a little bit more for me and let me know if it's really true."

He's not quite sure where this is going. "Um, I don’t know. A lot of times it seems like Loki's changing his mind on purpose."

The therapist smiles. "Well, from everything you've told me about him, he does like to stir things up. Especially when he's bored or frustrated."

"Which is pretty much all the time," Thor finishes with a little half-smile of his own. He's still not quite following this, though. "If it's not my fault, whose is it?"

"Let's not think of it in terms of blame just now. I probably should have worded my own question differently," the therapist acknowledges. "Do you agree that Loki is an adult?"

Thor nods. Although there are days he wonders...

"And do you agree that, as an adult, he has both the right to make his own choices and the obligation to live with the consequences?"

He doesn't always like it, but, "yes and yes. I sometimes wish I could help him with that part, though." Thor laughs drily. "Not that I have the best track record myself, at least not recently."

"So, doesn’t it follow that it’s Loki's responsibility to ask for what he wants?"

It does make sense, intellectually. He hesitates before nodding anyway.

The therapist smiles. "You don't look convinced."

"Loki _lies_ ," Thor blurts out without really thinking. And then stops equally abruptly, more than a little bit ashamed of himself.

"Yes, sometimes he does."

Okay, _this_ is what bothers him. "So, what if I ask him what he wants, and he lies?"

The therapist snickers. "Well, he's not going to get the sex he was hoping for, then, is he?"

Thor frowns. He can’t laugh in return; this is embarrassing. The whole topic is embarrassing. "But he'll be mad. And I- I'll feel like an asshole, because I don't want to make him do anything in bed he doesn't want to do." _Like having boring vanilla sex,_ his brain unhelpfully supplies.

Oh. _Oh_

"Let's try a less-emotionally-charged example," the therapist suggests. Suppose- Sif, we’ll say - from what you've told me she's probably a dessert person - suppose Sif offers you a sinfully-delicious-looking brownie. You really, really want it but, for whatever reason, you opt for turning it down instead. Take a minute to put yourself in the situation, and then tell me what happens. What happens next," he clarifies.

Thor pictures it easily enough. "All I can think of for the rest of the day is that fucking brownie."

The therapist smiles. "And are you upset with Sif for not second-guessing you and bullying you into eating it?"

"No." Thor snorts. "I'm upset with myself for... whatever. For being stupid? Stubborn?" But then it hits him: "Loki, though? Loki would totally blame Sif."

Somewhat to Thor’s surprise, the social worker nods. "You've all trained him he can avoid taking responsibility for himself that way... and from what you've told me," he continues before Thor can challenge the observation, "Loki is a quick, quick study."

_Oh._ Huh. "I hadn't really thought of it like that," Thor offers. And then he _gets_ it. "I suppose I'm too close to the whole mess to see it clearly."

"That’s a good way to put it," the therapist concurs. "And the whole thing has served a useful purpose for Loki - for both of you, really - so you should expect some pushback… especially at first."

Thor laughs, nodding ruefully. "With my brother, there is always pushback. Always."

It feels _beyond weird_ to say _brother_ here, after all these months of carefully hiding the true nature of their arrangement. He clears his throat. "Um. I got us way off topic there, didn't I?"

"That you did," the therapist admits. "And we're just about out of time, too. We'll have to talk more about your family situation in our next session."

Thor needs to know, though, and it won't wait a week. "So you- you don't think I'm some sort of sick weirdo?"

The therapist looks at him, face very serious. "No, not in the least. And I think it was both brave and smart of you to bring the whole thing up," he continues, "so we can work on your concerns in the proper context."

"My father would- I don't even know what he would do." Most days Thor can't even really think about it.

"Even Odin manages to be wrong on occasion," the therapist responds with a wry smile.

"Just don't ever let him hear you say that," Thor advises, only half-kidding, as he gets slowly to his feet. "Thanks. For everything."

“Of course. It's my pleasure."

~

The whole approach is simple-enough-sounding during the session... and even when he's back at his desk later. When Thor gets home and has to actually confront His Highness, Prince Sullen, though, it's anything but.

"I talked to my therapist today," he tries, "and he thinks- he thinks we should talk more."

"Oh he does, does he," Loki challenges, more than a little icily, from his half-reclining perch atop the couch arm. "And just what exactly makes him say that? Frankly, from my perspective… I must say you talk far more than enough already, brother."

Thor sets his keys down on the counter and turns to face Loki, hands crammed deep in the pockets of his trousers. "I don't want you to feel like one of my chores, Loki. I don't think of it- of you that way at-."

"Wait, what," Loki interrupts. He sits forward, both feet flat on the floor now, and crosses his arms. "You talked to your therapist about sex? About _us_ having sex?" Loki's expression says _angry_ but his shoulders are up around his ears. Defensive, then. Threatened.

That, Thor knows, he can understand if he tries. 

"Not exactly." _You were a hooker,_ he wants to throw back, _since when do you care?_ But Thor is tired of fighting. He only wants things to be okay again, so he lets it go in favor of being considerate. Of helping. "I know I’m just not _getting_ what you're wanting these days. And I don't- it shouldn't be that way."

When Loki says nothing, Thor goes on - quickly, words tumbling out in a rush – before he can chicken out: "Look, I love you. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I want to do what it takes- whatever makes you feel good." He swallows hard. "Tell me what you want. Please," he begs, "anything."

That’s probably not quite true - he hopes Loki goes by the spirit of the thing, rather than pushing for the letter of it - but it sure is heartfelt. And terrifying. "Look, this is so awkward. Help me out, please? Meet me halfway?" He stretches out a hand, feeling incredibly vulnerable. "Just-... please."

Loki shuts his eyes. He reaches blindly for Thor's hand. "I'm not delicate. I don't need to be coddled," he stresses, "not in bed." His eyes are still closed tight. "I miss the way things were before you decided I was- breakable." He squeezes Thor's fingers, tugging his brother a step closer. "I don't want sex between us to be about- about _holding back_."

He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a loud whoosh. "And yes, Thor, this is so awkward." His mouth twists into something close to a smile.

The tension in the room eases, just a little.

Thor takes a deep breath of his own. "How about we try doing instead of talking, then?" He pulls on Loki's hand. "And if you feel too coddled, you let me know."

For several moments nothing happens. No one moves.

Then Loki opens his eyes, blinking against the light. "You think you're up for it?"

Thor nods, decisively. He does. He is.

Loki yanks his hand free, sharp and hard. "Then prove it."

~

Without further ado Thor ducks quickly, arms whipping forward, and straightens with Loki - kicking and fussing, drumming Thor's back with both fists - slung over one shoulder. "Challenge accepted," he says, laughing, as he turns and marches into the bedroom.

He doesn't hit the light switch; the window will do, and he wants to be _feeling_. Not thinking. A little dark will be good, for that.

When his knees hit the bed Thor tosses his brother unceremoniously onto the mattress. He swarms up over Loki without leaving his brother any time to react. Loki pushes and wriggles and slaps, one hand laying a stinging blow scross Thor’s cheek.

"I've had enough of these _hands_ ," Thor hisses, catching first one wrist and then the other. After a brief, heated struggle he pins Loki's arms, one-handed, overhead. Balancing three-pointed on the knuckles of that fist and his knees, Thor runs his free hand lightly, lightly down Loki's ribs. "Hmm," he muses between gasps - he's a little out of breath; it's not solely from their wrestling, either - "I wonder if _tickling_ ," he goes on, jabbing his fingers into the soft stretch of his brother's side, "is too close to coddling. What do you think," he asks, fingers darting and jabbing all over the pale torso beneath him, as Loki shrieks and flails.

On a particularly piercing squeal Thor claps his tickling hand over Loki's mouth. His brother nips - not bites, not really; it’s not nearly enough to break the skin - and then licks wetly across his palm.

_And just like that it's not a game anymore._

Thor drops to his elbows, Loki's wrists still caught in one hand, and kisses hard into his brother's warm, slick mouth. His free hand traces Loki's face, his hair, his ear, the sharp line of his jaw.

When Thor lets go of his brother's wrists and frames Loki's face with both hands, their kisses all teeth and tongues and vicious force, he can feel Loki's cock jutting hard against the line of his hip.

_Oh, he has missed this._

He lowers most of his weight onto his brother, hands tangled in thick, dark hair, and lets Loki rut roughly against him. They have far too many clothes on, everything scratchy and constricting, but Thor doesn't have it in him just now to take a break. Not even for long enough to strip.

Loki moans into his mouth, fingers digging painfully into the thick muscles of his shoulders. And as much as he's able to think at all, Thor _has an idea_. He drags backwards along his brother's body, hands firm and insistent this time, tugging Loki's sweats out of the way and swallowing his brother all the way down.

He can't do his best work in this position but Thor makes up for poor technique with enthusiasm. It's not long before he has his brother tense head-to-toe, twitching and shaking. And it’s even less time after that – time spent sucking hard, tongue working everywhere - before his mouth fills.

~

Afterwards, it takes quite a bit longer for the two of them to catch their breath. As soon as he can manage it, though, Thor works a hand free. "Check," he teases, gesturing accordingly.

"Asshole," Loki fires back, but he's laughing.

Thor grins. "Maybe next time. Let me check my _list._ "


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gives honesty a spin.

"So, what did you and Odin actually meet about," Loki asks, trailing his fork mock-idly through the remains of his Pad Thai. "The night you- the night you came home shitfaced. Sorry," he says as Thor can't quite stifle a frustrated noise, "but you were. It _was_ a meeting, right? Not drinks at some strip club?" He hooks a sweaty strand of hair behind one ear, eyes fixed on his plate.

Even over the food Loki smells like sex and Thor's groin aches. He would far rather be back in bed than sitting here talking about Odin. But he probably does owe his brother this conversation; he's had it with nearly everyone else by now, and there's no real reason for keeping Loki in the dark.

Well, except that Thor's more than a little scared about how the whole thing may go.

He's already chewed his last bite far longer than can possibly seem believable. Thor swallows, chases it with a gulp of water, and sets his fork down. "Um. Someone must have seen us out - no no no, it's not like that," he hastens to clarifies as Loki looks up, visibly horrified. "Someone told him I was involved with a man. As far as I know he has no idea _which_ man." Thor takes another drink. Looking Loki in the eye for this is too hard, especially without something stronger than water in his glass. "And, well, you know... you grew up with it, the same as I did. Dad isn't the most gay-friendly, open-minded guy out there."

"So he wants it stopped," Loki says flatly.

"No, surprisingly. I mean, he probably _does_ want that," Thor corrects himself in response to Loki's disbelieving snort, "but he claims he _just wants me to be happy._ I'll spare you exactly what he said about the details of my chosen road to happiness, but I’m pretty sure he was mostly trying to reassure me that I was free to date a man if I wanted. Not that I need his permission,” Thor hurriedly adds, just in case, “but you know how he can be.”

"I bet he was quite eloquent," Loki observes with enough sarcasm to burn the place down. “When he was waxing on about your _chosen road to happiness,_ I mean."

Thor laughs, feeling a little better. " _Eloquent_ is not quite the word I would have chosen, actually."

Loki doesn’t laugh and, when he looks up, his expression is shrewd. Thor's _better_ feeling fades as fast as it came. "Okay, so, Odin's homophobic,” Loki observes drily. “Like you said, no news there." He cocks an eyebrow. "So, what else happened?"

"He wanted to meet you," Thor offers by way of explanation. "Well, not _you, personally;_ the imaginary light of my life."

"And?"

He knows this is not really what Loki is asking, but he gives it a try anyway: "I made excuses. He's busy again so I'm hoping he'll forget."

His brother gives him _the look_... the one that practically screams _bullshit_. "So you got tanked and came home on the warpath because Daddy-O wants to meet the imaginary random boyfriend you haven't got?" Loki sits up straight. "You expect me to believe _that's_ why you threatened to throw me out? Seriously? What _happened_ , Thor?"

No, he doesn’t really expect it... and he didn't try to throw Loki out, either. But taking the bait and arguing is really just putting off the inevitable; now that the subject has been broached his brother is going to come back to it again and again and again, until Thor finally gives way.

Gives in.

He heaves a huge sigh. This is really hard. "Remember what I asked you about- um- about Odin implying I'd molested you?" God. Even now he can hardly even talk about this, especially with his brother.

"Mm-hm." Loki's expression, in the quick peek Thor manages, has softened slightly.

"He basically said he was glad I'd _moved on_ " - Thor has to stop and clear his throat noisily; it’s that or choke - "because he- he _thought that_ about me. He fucking _joked_ about it, Loki." He can practically feel his blood pressure skyrocketing. " _My own goddamn father thought I was molesting you and he stood by and did nothing and now he can fucking laugh about it._ The whole thing just made me so mad," he adds, making a conscious effort to speak more quietly. He looks at his hands. "And worst of all he made me wonder- if it was true." _If I could actually be that monster and not even know it,_ he's afraid to finish.

Thor’s not sure what kind of reaction he expected out of his brother, but the one he gets? - Loki stretches across the table and kisses him lightly on the tip of the nose, quietly saying "thank you for telling me," as he settles back into his own chair – That definitely wasn't it.

~

"How are things going," Sif inquires over a late diner lunch - breakfast for her; see: diner - a few days later. "Last time I was over to your place things felt pretty damned strained."

“I don’t have everything figured out yet,” Thor admits, “for sure. Not even close. But it does seem like things are getting a little better.”

She smiles. “That’s good, I think. It is, right?”

Instead of reassuring her – or not, for that matter – he opts for going out on a limb. “Loki asked me about Odin. I’m not sure why,” he adds, because he isn’t, “but he did. And I told him.”

Sif whistles quietly. “How did that go,” she ask, face contorting in a pained wince.

“Not as bad as I expected, actually,” he tells her. As he does, he’s vaguely surprised to realize that he means every word of it.

~

Thor is once again later than late coming out of court. It's not went-out-drinking-with-Odin late, but it's bad enough that he's more than a little worried just the same. Things have been pretty good the past couple of weeks - he's even starting to develop a clear appreciation for his brother in those cuffs that goes well beyond _doing it Loki's way_ , and is battling past the guilty realization that maybe that _is_ how he rolls after all - and he really doesn't want to chance rocking the very, very tippy boat over something as ridiculous as the world's slowest-talking witness.

He texts, because that seems less dangerous than calling: _l8 from ct, cu soon_.

The response he gets, just as he's starting his car - _pls hurry_ \- sends a cold-hot surge of panic straight through him.

He fumbles his phone trying to back out of his space and get out of the parking garage and call his brother and not kill someone in the process, all at the same time. The stupid thing is on the floor, over by the passenger side door, when Loki answers. Thor can barely hear and can't reach the useless piece of garbage for trying. "Loki, baby," he yells across the car, swerving alarmingly. "Jesus I dropped my fucking phone sorry are you okay?"

"Yes and no," the phone whispers. "Are you almost home?"

_Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck no no._ "Just crossing Main," Thor yells, adrenaline-shaky; running the no-longer-quite-yellow stoplight late enough he's bound to get a ticket. "Fifteen minutes." He thinks. "Do I need to call someone for you?"

"No," he thinks Loki answers... just as his motherfucking goddamn sonofabitch pieceofshit phone drops the call.

Thor can't reach it, he can't stop. _Just fucking drive,_ he tells himself. _Just fucking drive._

Over and over, the entire way home.

~

He takes the stairs two and then three at a time, coming up the final flight with thighs screaming and heart pounding. He can't seem to manage his keys but it turns out not to matter because the door- the door is ajar. _Shit shit shit_. He bursts in, yelling "LOKI!!" at the top of his lungs-

-and skids to a stumbling, flailing halt, stopping just in time to narrowly avoid plowing straight into his brother.

Loki is pale and teary-eyed and pacing like crazy, even now that Thor’s nearly laid him out, but there's no blood and no visible chaos. _Oh, thank god._

Thor makes himself stay put and just breathe, one hand splayed across his own upper chest. _Easy, easy._ When he thinks he can talk without yelling, he reaches desperately for vague, neutral platitudes he hopes aren’t going to make things worse. "I'm sorry I'm late," he starts off, as calmly as he can. "Is everything-" - _no, stupid question; things obviously aren't okay_... he shouldn't even go there - "Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't know," Loki hisses through clenched teeth. He stops where he is, feet spread and chest heaving, and looks at his brother. "I just don't know."

"Can I- may I touch you," Thor asks carefully. Touch can ground his brother or send him flying, and he has learned he's not good at guessing which will be which at any given moment

"Mm-hm," Loki hums, and then Thor staggers a little as – Loki’s arms flung fast about his neck and legs wrapping his hips – he struggles to balance under his brother's sudden onslaught.

"Sh-hh," Thor soothes, one hand cupping Loki's ass and the other spread across his brother's shaking shoulders. "Shh." He's not sure if _I'm here_ or _I've got you_ is an okay thing to add, so he doesn't; he just squeezes Loki - firmly, solidly, but not enough to hurt - and rubs little thumb-circles over the same still-a-little-too-prominent shoulder blade that bears the exit wound scar.

~

For a long time – long enough that Thor has to hitch his brother up twice to avoid dropping him – Loki sobs rough and broken into his neck.

Thor lets him, petting and shushing and ignoring his own complaining muscles.

As the tears slow to wet snuffling breaths, he tries again: “Can you tell me what happened?”

Loki wipes his face on his own bicep. “One of the guys in day treatment – he came out of my residential program; he was doing really well,” he adds, snuffling, “snuck something in today and OD’d. Right in the fucking day center.” He draws a sodden, shuddering breath. “The whole shitshow, seizures and puking and everything.”

“Oh, baby,” Thor starts, but Loki isn’t done.

“And then he fucking died, right there in the hallway in front of everyone. The staff did CPR, for what seemed like forever, but it was all over. They couldn’t get him back. And you know what,” he asks, smacking his forehead hard against Thor’s shoulder. “All I can think about now is how badly I want to use. How fucked-up is that, I ask you?”

But Thor knows Loki really isn’t asking. “I love you,” he says. “I’m here.” And he holds on tight, like he can somehow stop the world from imploding.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Thor deal with the aftermath
> 
>  
> 
> _Sorry, this is a short one - life got busy._

"Look, I need to set you down, okay?" His body has reached its limit; if Thor doesn't stand Loki back on his own two feet they will both fall. "I won't let you go, honest." And he doesn't, even as Loki slowly unwinds first one leg and then the other from around his waist, plants both feet, and tentatively shifts his weight down onto them. Thor keeps his arms around his brother and just rubs gently up and down the slim length of Loki’s back, over and over.

Eventually Loki's phone rings, its sound shockingly loud in the heavy silence. His brother makes no move to answer but... Thor figures that's probably not a great idea just now, not with what happened earlier. They don't need the police showing up because someone thinks there might be a problem. He slips a hand down and digs the annoying thing out of Loki's pocket. "JT," he reads aloud. "Should you take this one," he asks quickly; it's going to go to voicemail in another ring or two. Loki nods wetly against his neck.

Thor props the phone in the general vicinity of Loki's ear with one hand, all the while keeping secure hold of his brother with the other.

"This is Loki," the one-and-only acknowledges quietly. He sounds completely worn-out and deeply, achingly sad. Empty. Thor feels awful for him, just awful. He can't even imagine, except- except he can. "Yeah,” his brother responds, and then “No, I think I will be okay. Thor is with me now. He will keep an eye on me," Loki explains into the phone. Thor gives him a quick little squeeze. "No, I will. I'll be there tomorrow just like always. It's not like I've never seen a dead person before," Loki adds with a short, humorless laugh. "I just- it was just shocking, you know? He seemed fine."

His voice cracks and Thor thinks for a moment that Loki will cry - again, more, still - but the person on the other end says something long and quiet and Loki settles. "I promise. I'll call if I need anything. My brother will hold me to it." He nuzzles Thor's soggy neck. "Thanks for checking on me, man."

"Done?" When his brother nods, Thor takes a quick look to be sure the call actually ended before slipping the phone back where he found it. Both hands freed up, he goes back to petting Loki - on and on, slowly, calmly. "Is this okay," he asks, just to be sure his brother feels like what's happening here is under his control.

"Mm," Loki hums and snuggles closer.

Thor doesn't say _you feel nice,_ even though his brother really does. He also carefully doesn't fill the silence with pointless chatter, although he'd like very much to, and he doesn't pry.

"That was my sponsor," Loki volunteers after another long silence. "Well, we call them _coaches_ , but that's pretty much what it boils down to." He snuffles, body pressed tight against Thor's. "He wanted to make sure I was okay."

"That was good of him," Thor offers, feeling unusually magnanimous. In the past he would have felt threatened by the idea of someone else _being there for his brother_ \- and he can't promise he won't again - but today he's just genuinely pleased someone else cares. " _Are_ you okay," he asks cautiously, giving Loki another friendly squeeze.

"Yes and no, I suppose." His brother snuffles again, then sighs. "I- I feel like the edge is off it now... like I'm past the point where I might have done something- something stupid. Something regrettable."

"I'm so proud of you," Thor tells him, lips against the bare, damp skin of Loki’s graceful neck. He really, truly is proud, and he hopes he doesn't sound patronizing. "This is a big thing and- and look at you!"

"It's probably smarter not to right this second," Loki says. "I’ve been bawling for hours; by now I've got to be pretty fucking revolting."

"Never," Thor tells him, but he doesn't push his brother away for inspection. He can look another time; right now, he just needs to feel... and to be here for Loki, to be what Loki needs, in whatever way he can.

~

"Do you want to sit down," Thor asks when they've been standing so long his feet are burning. To top it off Loki has cried endlessly, enough that he's pretty much run out of tears, and Thor really wants to get some liquid in him. Too many years of too much drinking has taught him an important lesson; dehydration makes nothing better and everything worse.

"Yeah," Loki says quietly into his shirt. "Can you get my pills for me?" He sways alarmingly as Thor starts to turn away. "Whoa, dizzy."

 _Okay, that does it._ Thor scoops Loki up, one arm behind his brother's knees, and sets him gently on the couch. "You really need to drink some water or something. Ginger ale, maybe," he suggests when Loki shrugs weakly.

"Ginger ale."

"And food," Thor offers hopefully. Loki shakes his head. Too bad; it was worth a try. They’ll give it another go later.

~

As he's digging through the cupboard for Loki's medication, Thor feels his own phone buzz. He pulls it out and clamps it between shoulder and ear - he needs the use of both hands right now. "Thor," he answers absent-mindedly without having even checked the caller. Oops.

"It's Sigyn," she says. "Is- are-?"

"You heard," he offers when she can't seem to spit it out. "It’s okay. Honest. Don't worry... Loki's here with me."

"Oh thank god," Sigyn tells him in a rush. "I got a call from one of our guys who works over at day treatment and all he could divulge to me was that-" - she pauses to breathe and chokes back a sob; Thor has a sudden, suffocating vision of drowning in a warm sea made up of the tears of everyone he knows - "that one of the guys out of residential died. I'm sorry- I didn't mean- I was just-..."

"No, it's okay. I get it." He does. He was terrified too, before he even had any of the details. "Do you want me to see if he'll talk to you?"

After a long pause she sniffles quietly. "Sorry. Um, no, I don't mean to intrude. Just tell him I called, okay?"

~

Thor kicks off the shoes he'd almost forgotten he was still wearing and pads back out into the living room, soda in one hand and pill in the other. "Sigyn called to see if you were- were okay," he chooses over the unspeakably-awful alternative. "She says hi." His brother is slumped tiredly against the arm of the couch, looking very small and miserable. "Can I join you, baby?"

"Please," Loki asks, voice almost gone. _All that crying and god knows how much screaming, before_ , Thor thinks... _when I wasn’t here and my poor brother was struggling with all this horror alone, thanks to fucking court._ Maybe it’s time for a new job, one that doesn’t force him to shirk his more important duties.

Thor sets the can of ginger ale down on the floor and manhandles his brother a little, ultimately ending up sprawled on the couch with Loki settled between his legs and reclining limp against his front. He hands over the pill, then stretches to grab the soda. "Bottoms up," he orders, arms wrapping loosely around his brother’s ribcage.

Loki obediently downs the whole can. Where Thor would have burped, his brother somehow manages not to. Afterwards the can tumbles in a splattery slow-motion roll to the floor. It shouldn’t, really, but that scares Thor. All he can picture is Loki in his arms, dead, the can falling free.

Thor squinches his eyes closed, trying to forget. "Do you want to talk about it," he asks, half to change the subject. “To talk about what happened, I mean?" When Loki doesn't answer, he leans around to kiss his brother's temple sweetly. "I'm here," he offers, "if you decide you do." In the end, Thor will take what he can get. It’s evening, and Loki is here with him... very much alive, curled warm and quiet in his arms.

Tomorrow is another day. For now, though, Loki is safe and nothing else matters.

Nothing at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Odin never lacks for wrenches, and never hesitates to throw them in things.

"Can you come in here for a minute," Odin _doesn't quite ask_ , from his office phone, in that all-too-familiar tone of voice which always indicates a given visit is non-negotiable. As if they ever are. "I have a question for you."

"No problem," Thor tosses back by force of habit, even though it actually kind of is one. He feels like complete and total ass - it took until at least 2:00 in the morning for Loki to doze off, and even after that his own sleep was at best light and broken - and he no doubt looks it as well. The odds of his father not noticing are pretty piss-poor, too; say what you will, the old goat misses nothing. Yawning and scrubbing at his face with both hands, Thor kicks back from his desk and just sits there as long as he dares before rising.

"Shut that," Odin indicates, gesturing towards the door. "And have a seat," his father continues as the door latches, a lifetime of giving orders plain in everything about him.

Thor does as he's told, doing his best to come across as calm and mildly curious, because that’s what the person he’s pretending to be would do.

"You look like shit," Odin offers. "Is that boy of yours putting you through the wringer?" His father grins, but it's not friendly and Thor has to force himself not to clench his teeth.

"I'm fine, thanks; just a little tired. I didn't get the greatest night's sleep last night," he tacks on, wishing just as it leaves his mouth that he hadn't. His father never needs an opening, and by now he should certainly know better than to give the man one.

And sure enough: "Packing some hairy old dude would give _me_ bad dreams too," Odin says, cheerfully, and then fucking _winks_. "Anyway, I promise: I didn't drag you in here to talk about your sex life." His father leans forward, elbows on the polished desktop and fingers steepled, and with no further warning drops a nuclear bomb. "Are you absolutely certain your brother is dead?"

Thor's very sure the shocked, horrified look on his face is more than convincing. " _What?!_ ", he blurts out. He can’t believe Odin would even _ask_ him this. "He was shot right in front of me." He swallows hard. "His back was blown wide open." He can see it to this day – the spray of tissue and blood; Loki flung down like a cast-aside rag doll – and it's every bit as sickening now as it was the moment it happened. More so, even.

"But yet when the police arrived there was no body," Odin muses. "Blood, sure, right where you'd told them it would be... but no body."

"I would never have left him if I hadn't been sure he was dead, father. Never. I would have stayed with him, or died trying." The whole thing is going to make him cry; he has had this exact same conversation with himself thousands of times now. He checked Loki's pulse, he did! There was nothing. He knows this, he does, but it haunts his dreams just the same. "I was absolutely positive he was dead," he stresses, anguish starting to come through in his voice despite his best efforts to avoid breaking down.

"Look,” his father starts in, visibly annoyed by Thor’s poorly concealed distress. “I know I turned a blind eye to your holey-as-swiss-fucking-cheese shenanigans that day... the shit you pulled - and don't for a minute think you had me fooled, not with that nonsense - getting your brother labeled and then released as a _key informant_." Odin makes big air-quotes around the phrase, then rests his index fingers back against his chin. "The situation corrected itself far more quickly than I could have ever hoped, so I did what I could to help it fade quietly away. But you didn't pull one past me," he warns, "and don't make the mistake of thinking your old man has forgotten."

Odin pauses there, still looking more than a little pissed-off. Thor knows he's probably supposed to say _thank you_ \- had anyone examined that whole situation even the least bit too closely it would have cost him his law license, no doubt about it. His, and those of both the prosecutor and the judge who'd helped make it happen as well.

He can't get the words out. Just can't.

"You're probably wondering what all this is about," Odin prompts when it’s finally clear Thor is only going to sit there in silence. His father has never been one to shy away from speaking for others, after all, whether or not it’s warranted. Or welcome. "Some druggie died last night," he goes on without bothering to wait for a response this time. "At that treatment place over off of Eir Alley. Kind of a dump… the name of it escapes me. You know where I mean."

Thor does. He also knows the name like he does his own birthdate but he sure as fuck isn't going to say so. Especially since his heart is pounding half out of his chest and if he tries to talk he’ll scream.

"Stuff like that, you never know if it’s a crime. So, the police did the works,” Odin explains, irritation with his son evidently fading as he warms to his story. “Turns out the guy in the technician unit used to work over at the jail, years ago now. Not our jail," his father clarifies, "the state pen. Anyway, he called me a few minutes ago; he says one of the clients he saw last night - no, not the dead one; that would be far, far too easy - was the spitting image of Loki."

Thor can _feel_ himself breaking out in a cold sweat. _Shit, shit, of all the stupid things to have happen..._ And after that bit about _far too easy_ it takes all he has not to leap up, chair sent flying, and punch Odin right in his smug old fucking face.

And then run, because there would be no second option.

But he can't. _Because_ there would be no second option. No, he owes it to Loki to keep his shit together.

"So, I have no way of knowing for certain because I can't have a client roster pulled unless there's clear evidence of wrongdoing," - Thor can barely here Odin droning on over the roaring in his own ears - "but it sure makes me wonder. Your brother's pretty distinctive-looking, and this guy's always good and observant." His father stops and peers at him strangely. "Are you sure you're okay, Thor? You look even worse than you did when you first sat down, and you’re sweating like a pig."

Thor swipes a hand over his face and loosens his collar. "Maybe I _am_ coming down with something," he admits (lies). "I'm pretty dizzy."

Odin frowns. "I won't keep you then. In case it's catching. But Thor? I know you have a soft spot for your brother. But - if he _is_ still alive, and he seeks you out - you must remember that he's not the kid you knew." His father coughs, wiping his own mouth slowly. "He's a dangerous criminal, not to mention psychotic. Keep. Your. Distance," he stresses, emphasizing each word with the sharp jab of a thick, wrinkled finger.

Thor can't stand another second of this. "I think I'm actually going to go put my head down for a few," he says as he hauls himself to his feet. "Thanks for the heads-up."

"If you don't feel better soon, go home," Odin calls after him as he staggers out into the hall.

~

"Sh-sh. Don’t worry, they won't have any cause to investigate further," Loki reassures him that evening. "It was a simple OD – the guy had the empty bottle from his sister's prescription narcs right there in his coat pocket."

Bruise-dark circles under Loki's eyes are the only outward evidence of yesterday's horrors - he's taking this news far better expected, not to mention far better than Thor did, and he actually seems cheered by the opportunity to be the one doing the comforting for a change. 

Still, _don’t worry_ doesn’t fix anything. "If he finds out, we are so incredibly fucked," Thor growls. He's trying to calm down, he is, and he knows his brother is doing his best as well… but none of it is working.

Loki gets up from the table, keeping one hand in light contact with Thor’s arm, and circles around behind him. "In treatment they're always telling us to _have a plan._ Maybe," his brother suggests, long fingers starting to work the knots out of Thor's shoulders, "we should start coming up with a plan to handle Odin."

Thor tenses, thinking for the briefest moment that Loki means _handle_ in the _go for a swim in cement boots_ sense.

His brother, ever the mind-reader, laughs drily. "Not like that, you beast," he clarifies, still laughing, with a sharp pinch to Thor’s ear. "Although I must confess to seeing the appeal. I meant a plan for _us_." He leans down and nuzzles the top of Thor's head. "Mm, you smell nice,” he mumbles into Thor’s hair, still sounding surprisingly cheerful. Schemes are his element; perhaps it really shouldn’t be so surprising after all. “Where was I? Oh, right," he continues before Thor can prompt him, "a way out. We should plan ourselves a way out."

This time, Loki stretches farther around and plants a wet, open-mouthed kiss on Thor's lips. "Just in case the shit hits the fan," he finishes, mouth warm and slippery against Thor’s. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki backslides a little, but the boys do their best to handle it okay.
> 
>  
> 
> _Warning: There's a little bit of self-harm in this one, definitely not even close to worse than you've seen here already, and Loki's reaction to it is a little odd. Just so you know..._

“ _What did you just do?_ ” Thor’s chest tightens uncomfortably, solely in reaction to the odd look on his brother’s face.

As soon as Loki realizes he’s been spotted out, though, his expression recomposes itself – quickly, smoothly - into one of mild puzzlement. “I don’t know what you mean, brother,” he responds, all silky, velvety warmth. All lies.

It’s not the least bit convincing. Loki’s eyes are wide and dark, totally out of place against his abruptly calm face, and Thor knows – he just _knows_ , with the sort of heavy certainty drawn only from long, long, painful experience – that something bad has happened. “Loki,” he tries again, doing his best (which probably isn’t very good just now) to keep any hint of _threat_ out of his voice, “I’m not upset with you. But something is obviously going on, and I need you to tell me what it is.”

Loki shrugs. The simple, familiar movement is easily one of his favorites. It’s a gesture he has made many times each day for pretty much as long as Thor can remember, as regularly and naturally as breathing. It’s an intimately familiar thing and this time something about it just looks _wrong_.

_Think._

“Do that again,” Thor orders, and Loki – by reflex, in the maybe half a second before his quick little brain catches fully up to his ears – does. _There. That_ movement, the way his brother’s left arm doesn’t twist quite as fluidly as his right, is what caught Thor’s eye the first time. “Did you hurt your arm,” he asks, carefully choosing his words and actually meaning something rather different.

Loki opens and closes his mouth a few times. All that comes out, finally, is “it’s nothing.”

“Bring it over, then,” Thor suggests (okay, challenges, but just a little) – he knows it isn’t truly _nothing_ , from the way his brother is acting for starters – “and let me have a look at it.”

“Really, it’s fine,” Loki says, starting to inch backwards… which, in and of itself tells Thor all he really needs to know.

“Look,” he says, gamely pretending his stomach isn’t sinking uncomfortably, “you’re not fooling me. I’m not judging, and I won’t yell. Please, just let me make sure you are okay.”

“You yelled earlier,” Loki points out, rather smugly.

Thor sighs. “Yes, and you swore at me and said I was like dad. But I give you my word: I’m not going to yell now. I honestly just want to be sure you are okay. Nothing else,” he reassures, because after all that’s happened between them he knows he needs to.

~

Loki’s right, as far as _being right_ goes; it had definitely been a bad morning. Weekends should be pleasant, a time to relax and regroup and spend quality time together, but - even though the two of them had both, at the time, appeared to handle everything life had thrown at them over the past few days well enough - the week’s cumulative stresses must have built up to dangerous levels.

And then some.

It had begun badly, pretty much right out of the gate, when Thor had startled awake exhausted after yet another night of broken sleep and awful dreams.

_Recently he’s been dreaming of drowning, of trying to run through quicksand, of standing by unable to do anything beyond watching helplessly as Loki falls out of trees and off of bridges. Of coming home to an apartment splattered and smeared slaughterhouse gory, only to find his brother’s dead body torn and broken on the bedroom floor. Of Loki, lying pale and lifeless, in a long-since-cooled-to-room-temperature bathtub… its water red with his spilled blood._

Sadly, last night had been no exception.

He’s still not quite sure where – not to mention _why_ \- the day went completely sideways, but Thor does know the _how_ of it all. He’d tried to cuddle his sleeping brother – something Loki often, not to mention what seems to be unpredictably, does not suffer gracefully – and Loki had thrashed about snarling. One thing had led to another, the way things all too often do, and before long Thor had said something uncalled-for about Loki’s being a slut and Loki had said something not much better about Thor’s being a controlling asshole _just like the old man_.

From a cool, professional standpoint, they’d probably handled it all pretty well: Nothing had really escalated beyond that point. Loki hadn’t spat (or bitten… or left); Thor hadn’t gotten physical. There had been a little yelling, yes – and it had been far from one-sided, despite what Loki might be saying now – but that had really been the worst of it.

Neither of them had been feeling particularly cool, though, or professional, and they’d spent the rest of the morning (and early afternoon, now) sulking in their respective corners. As in, Thor had been flopped on the couch and Loki had been sprawled in bed.

At least, that’s what he’d thought his brother was doing.

~

Except now, Thor can’t help but think that- well, that maybe _that hadn’t been the worst of it_ after all.

~

“Please, baby?” He has come down a little, decelerating from raw panic to genuine, focused concern. He wants badly to go to his brother, to gather Loki in his arms and cuddle him and make everything okay, but he doesn’t dare just yet (and, honestly, it’s not like hugs fix everything; he may not like that, not at all, but he’s at least learning it’s true). Loki _in a mood_ reads being approached as _being threatened_ and that’s not going to serve either of them well just now. Thor pats the cushion next to him instead. “Come sit here with me.”

He can _see_ Loki waffling, some sort of private debate bouncing around inside that pretty head. It’s almost amusing, especially now that he’s managing to cool down a little.

Not quite, but almost.

“Please,” he wheedles, hoping it will help if he begs a little; despite everything he might claim normally, never let it be said Thor Odinson is above playing a little dirty if the situation demands it.

Finally Loki gives in; he comes over and sits down carefully, right at the very edge of the couch, about as far from his brother as it’s possible to be. He sighs, looks pointedly off into the distance for about as long as Thor can stand to let him, then sighs again. “Okay, you win.”

_No, no he doesn’t. Winning is when things like this don’t happen_. But he doesn’t say that. “How so,” he asks quietly instead.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Loki protests, “and you’re right, okay? I cut myself earlier. I knew I shouldn’t, and I knew-,” he looks at the floor, the table, his own hands, anything but his brother’s face, “I knew you would be disappointed, but I did it anyway. So there,” he adds a bit too loudly, finally looking Thor in the eye.

Loki’s expression is a tangled jumble of _classic Loki stubborn_ and _I’m about to cry_ , and Thor really wants to hug him now. He doesn’t. He doesn’t feel shocked, though, either; he already knew what happened, when you get right down to it, and hearing Loki say it aloud no longer gets to him like it once did. “How bad is it,” he tries first, because the _why_ questions are always the perilous ones.

“It would probably need stitches if we were normal people,” Loki says a bit sheepishly, laughing for the first time today. “But we’re not, so it’s fine.”

“What happened,” Thor tries next, since the first question didn’t launch a war.

Loki flops back against the cushions hard enough to make the whole couch judder, then laughs again – just a short, sharp bark of a laugh, but it’s all good and Thor will take it – as he rolls a little towards Thor and reaches across his own chest to take hold of the couch back with his left hand. “It throbs a little if I leave it hanging down, though.”

Thor waits, acting rather more patient than he feels even now.

“Okay, okay,” Loki grumbles, even though Thor has not actually not pressed him further. “I- I don’t really know what got into me. I was upset about before” – that part makes sense; Thor had been upset too, even prior to this whole business, and it’s not at all how he wanted the day to go – “and about this whole shitty week, and it just felt like the right thing to do.” He inhales loudly, then forces the air back out in an even louder whistling sigh. “And then I did it, and it felt wrong instead of good… and that made me sad.” Loki’s eyes well up a little. “Before you beat yourself up,” he continues, wiping his face on the shoulder of his t-shirt, “you didn’t leave anything dangerous around. I dismembered a disposable safety razor.”

“I guess we’re switching to electric,” Thor offers, making himself smile.

“Not necessary,” Loki says, rather more unhappily. “Whatever it used to do for me, it doesn’t do anymore.” A lone tear escapes and trails shining down his cheek. “Is it weird that knowing that makes me sad?”

Thor’s therapist has talked fairly often about how grieving extends beyond _appropriate_ losses – that people feel the loss of things about themselves, even things they’re glad to see the back of, keenly – so he shakes his head. “No, baby, it’s not weird.” He reaches one finger out and gently, lightly trails it along the back of Loki’s left hand. “Now, can I see it?”

Loki snorts. “You’re just not going to drop it, are you? You’re going to hound me about it until I give in.”

He’s not _hounding,_ but he lets that go and simply nods.

“Fine,” Loki huffs. He hikes up the soft sleeve of his shirt and – as Thor steels himself to _not react no matter what it looks like_ \- cautiously peels up the edge of a messily taped-down stack of gauze pads. “Here. Look. See.”

He makes himself not stare at the amount of blood soaking the underside of the makeshift dressing, focusing instead on the (fresh, but already sore-looking) cuts themselves – they form two neat less-than signs and an oddly angular p-shaped thing – high on Loki’s pale inner forearm. They’re fractions of an inch from the big veins at the bend of his brother’s elbow, and Thor has to swallow hard before he can speak. “What does it mean,” he manages to get out, because nothing Loki does is without meaning.

“It’s our names,” Loki explains, “in runes. It pretty much says what these scars say.” He angles his wrist sharply, bringing the long-healed _I (heart) THOR_ into prominent focus.

“So why do you get to be listed twice,” Thor asks, still trying diligently to work his way past feeling sick. Loki has said, under no duress, that this doesn’t _work_ for him anymore… and he’s letting Thor see it. There is no reason to freak out. It is just a minor setback in the overall scheme of things, one they will each dutifully mention in therapy and then file away under _mistakes we made_.

_It’s a thick fucking file, that one._

“My rune is the same rune used for… for love, lust, passion.” He looks up at Thor and smiles crookedly. “I guess I was meant to be this way.”

Thor smiles back, a little more honestly this time. “And what does mine mean?”

“Yours is the rune for action,” Loki explains, grinning full-on now. “See?”

A thin trickle of blood runs around the underside of Loki’s arm, from the bottom of the second _Loki rune_. Thor clears his throat. “We should put some pressure on that,” he suggests, hoping it comes across as helpful. “Sif will give us what-for if she finds out we just sat here and watched it bleeding. Give it here, please,” he says, reaching slowly for his brother’s injured arm.

Loki scoots closer, still smiling a little, and lets Thor press the bandage firmly back into place.

They sit there a while, Loki humming quietly to himself and Thor _taking action_.

After maybe ten minutes Loki scoots closer, thigh pressed against warm against Thor’s shin, and plants a soft kiss on the back of the closest hand, the one holding pressure. “Thank you for not yelling,” he says softly, and stretches in to kiss Thor’s mouth instead.


End file.
